The Aftermath
by blacktears
Summary: Demanded Sequal to Yes Master, My Master....short, crappy...and I think I've actually started to figure out a plot for it.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I own nothing  
Note: I'm writing this because several people have written me asking for a sequal to "Yes Master, My Master." Well, here it is. This will have torture (mostly in flashbacks); at least mentioned rape; and m/m relationships. Lets see how it goes, ne?  
  
  
The Aftermath  
  
  
Quatre could feel eyes on his body before he'd even truly awakened, and it took quite an effort to keep from squirming away. Slowly, he turned over so he lay with his back on the plain white sheets, his clear eyes opening slowly giving him time to take in his lover, who sat stoicly beside him, watching him carefully. "You were staring again," Quatre accused the tall, brown haired boy in a soft voice.  
  
Green eyes lowered briefly, focusing on the white scars that criss-crossed Quatre's skin. Built up rage tensed the long limbs of Quatre's love-but he said nothing; asked nothing...he hadn't since Quatre had made it clear how unwelcome the subject was. "I was," Trowa admitted freely, raising his eyes once again to meet Quatre's aquamarine ones. "I have to watch you-to make sure your not a dream...that your really back here."  
  
A smile tugged at Quatre's lips and he leaned forward to engulf Trowa's slim frame in a gentle hug. "No dream," Quatre murmured into Trowa's bare chest, delighting when a large hand gently began stroking his blonde hair. "I'm really here."  
  
The sun had come up and was shining on the couple through the plain white curtains before the two broke apart or said another word. It was Trowa who finally moved, releasing his little one and streching his arms over his head, the brown haired man looked out the window. "It's been two weeks." he said, his voice low and husky. "You promised to go back today...we've no right to keep the others in the dark about your being...alive."  
  
Quatre sighed, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and planting his feet firmly in the pale green carpet. "Yes, I promised." he said as he stood. He wasn't ready to return to regular life; to move on...but he especially wasn't ready for the inavoidable fuss that would be made over his sudden return.  
  
Although sensing the smaller man's thoughts, Trowa reached out and took Quatre by the hand. "I know it won't be easy, little one," he said gravely. "But you can't hide forever."  
  
Quatre nodded, pale hair dropping over his face, creating shadows that made him look years older. "I know-and I promised that I would...but could we start with just the other pilots?" his voice wavered slightly on the last phraze, and his eyes were lowered like that of a dog expecting refusal.  
  
A little puzzled at the Arabian's behavior, Trowa nodded quickly. "Of course." He stood, the small smile that he reserved for his Quatre playing across his lips. "Lets get dressed shall we?"  
  
~*~  
  
Quatre's arms were closed tightly around his own body, as though he were cold, as he stared at the small cabin that had housed him and Trowa for the past two weeks-ever since Trowa had found him. Though small and secluded, the cabin was comfortable and felt safe...Quatre felt as though he were leaving the one safe haven on earth or abondoning a friend in time of need. He turned his head away from the building, closing his eyes. His cheek rubbed against the thin silk of Trowa's shirt, and he could feel the sculpted mucsels underneath the fine layer of clothing. His arms tightened around Trowa's wiast.  
  
"Read to go?" a voice floated back to his ears, and Quatre nodded silently. He could hear the motorcycle start up, and flet it beneath him, but he ignored it. Why was he so unhappy...so scared to leave the little building? After all, the most secure part of the little home was coming with him...He tightened his arms around Trowa's waist once again, as though to reassure himself that the tall clown was still there.  
  
Air ruffled through Quatre's hair and roared in his ears, drowning out all concious thought, leaving the young man's mind vunerable to the thing's he'd rather forget...  
  
~*~  
  
Quatre's hair shifted, tickling the back of the blond's neck, making him shiver involentarily. His hair stilled as the tall man that had been standing close behind him walked slowly so that he was in front of the small Arabian. Gentle fingers tilted the blond's head up, forcing Quatre to raise his eyes and meet the deep black ones that could read his soul.  
  
"Are you scared; in pain or just cold?" the man before him asked, the voice louder than usual, the words harsher and without the elegance that Quatre had grown used to.  
  
Quatre's aquamarine eyes lowered to the grimy stone floor once again. The tension in the air was tangible-the tall man was awaiting a reply. "All of those." Quatre forced to truth past his lips, dispite the protests of his mind and soul.  
  
There was little warning before Quatre's body rocked with the force of a strong hand connecting squarely with his head. He struggled not to fall; not to loose his balance and not to raise his eyes. "You forgot to say something," the words were hissed directly into Quatre's ear, raising goosbumps on the blond's fair skin.  
  
"I'm sorry...master," Quatre choked out, holding back the tears that the singular word brought to his eyes. "I did not mean to."  
  
"I know," came the reply. "now answer my question-correctly this time."  
  
Quatre swallowed and squeezed his blue eyes shut. "I am cold; in pain and scared, master." he managed, his voice barely a whisper.  
  
"And what should I do about this?" Footsteps rang in Quatre's ears as he wobbled on his feet. How long had he been standing? He was so tired, so very exhausted...  
  
"Hent!" The loud voice made both Quatre and the man he'd called "master" jump. Two pairs of eyes turned towards the tapestry covered doorway, widening as the two men saw the dark silluette that intuded the space.  
  
"Master!" the man before Quatre gasped, all compossier disapating as the shadow strode purposfully into the room. Even in the dim light Quatre could make out the expression of anger the other man wore, and somewhere deep in his mind his fear grew into true terror. Never had he seen such an expression of rage on the pale face of Gabriel-and the blond knew then and there that he'd never see anything more terrifying in his life. He wanted to shrink away, but his fatigued body wouldn't obey his muddled commands-besides, fighting would only prolong the torture, that much he'd learned.  
  
Gabriel raised a hand, and Quatre could see the dark, shining whip that the other man held. He closed his eyes, flinching instinctivly as the whip began it's short downward journey. There was a crack, and it took a moment for Quatre's mind to pick up on the fact that he'd felt nothing. One aquamarine eyes opened and Quatre peered cautiously at the fine clad man with the whip.   
  
Gabriel stood over his minion, anger still written on his face, though it had faded away somewhat. The whip flashed over Hent's skin once again, tearing the shirt on his back and drawing blood.  
  
Then the whip fell, and Gabriel turned, ignoring his helper, who remained curled on the floor, whimpering like a wounded dog. Dark eyes saught Quatre's.   
  
"Come now, little prince," strong hands took Quatre gently, though the gentle touch was still set the Winner's nerves afire, especially near his broken and bandaged arm. "Let us mend that cold and pain," Gabriel whispered, leading the boy from the stone room...  
  
~*~  
  
"Quatre?" Quatre pried his eyes open, squinting against the bright and unexpected daylight. His body was stiff and his arms cramped-still wrapped in a death hold around Trowa's waist, though the motorcycle's engin had been turned off.  
  
The blond blinked and straightened himself with some effort. "Are you okay?" Trowa inquired, twisting on the seat to face his love with concern etched in his features.  
  
Quatre nodded, trying to shake the feeling of disorientation away. "Yes, I am," he assured the brown haired man as he fumbled with dismounting the bike. His knees felt a little shaky and his ankles were a bit weak, but he wanted to stand. "I must have just fallen asleep."  
  
A frown took Trowa's lips. "Asleep? Your lucky that you were holding as tight as you were to me..." Quatre nodded, wishing that the subject would drop. Picking up on Quatre's unspoken demand, Trowa shook his head and turned his eyes towards the modest home they'd parked in front of. "Anyhow, we're here...ready to get your life back?"  
  
  
  
  
Note: the flashback is not something that I wrote about in "Yes Master, My Master" obviously-but then, Quatre was stuck with Gabriel for a year-I certainly didn't write THAT much on that story. ^^ what do you think so far? 


	2. 

note: starting this chapter, flashbacks are between ((...)). ^^  
  
  
Entering the home that the Gundam pilots shared was a very surreal experience for Quatre...while he was with Gabriel, the young blond had dreamed up a hundred scenarios as to what the others would be doing, and how they would be living...but he'd lost all hope in ever seeing that with his own eyes. Now he was...and not in any of his dreams, would he have suspected that the pilot's shared a small mansion, which they kept themselves (for he saw no servents as Trowa led him by the hand through the carpetted hallways)...and they kept it well! The walls were pained pale white, without smudges or finger prints...the carpets he'd seen were all dark violet and looked as though they were vacumed once a week or so. The tile floore of the entry hall had been cleaned and the closet that Trowa had deposited his and Quatre's coats in was organized and neat. Quite frankly, Quatre was surprised. He'd expected that the pilots would be living in small, ill kept apartments, or perhaps trailors. Wufei's would be clean, though...and so would Trowa's. Perhaps it was their influence that birthed such a tidy home.  
  
Trowa led Quatre down the main hall, his emerald eyes fixed on his lover, worriment crossing over his usually blank features, but Quatre ignored it and followed him blindly.   
  
After several minutes, the corridor at last opened into a large room, with a deep blue carpet and several curtained windows. The center of the room was taken up by a wooden coffee table, and against one wall was a large screen tv, A couch was in front of the TV and double armchairs were possitioned around the coffee table.   
  
Sprawled in the couch, Duo was playing Playstation, laughing gleefully at the electronic explosion-sounds.   
  
QUatre stared at the back of it's friend's head, courage disapating rapidly. Trowa put a warm and comforting hand on Quatre's shoulder, urging him on and giving him stregnth.  
  
"Hey guys!" Duo called without looking up from his game. "What took ya so long? How much food do you need to get?"  
  
"With you in the house," Trowa spoke up drying. "I'm sure they'll be getting quite a bit."  
  
Without really diverting his attention from his game, Duo looked over, grin on his face. The grin fell as his eyes locked on Quatre-so did the game controller.  
  
Quatre wanted to shrink into a little ball, and felt himself inching behind Trowa uncomfortably. Duo just stared at him...stared at him with a slightly open mouth and eyes wide in surprise. Slowly, the braided boy stood, and shuffled towards the blond Arabian that everyone thought to be dead. Trowa moved a step to the side, expossing Quatre completely.  
  
"Quatre?" Duo's soft voice was colored with disbelief as he paused, only inches from the blond.  
  
"Uh...hi Duo," Quatre breathed, nearly whispering.  
  
Strong arms grabbed the blonde, forcing an "eep" to escape his mouth, and held him tightly against Duo's warm, black clad body. The breath left Quatre's lungs as Duo pounded his back, burrying his face in Quatre's shoulder. "Oh Gods, Quatre!" Duo shouted into Quatre's ear, making the other boy wince. "We missed you so much!" The joy in Duo's voice at his return, evarporated Quatre's unrational fears, and the blond found himself wrapping his arms around his friend in return.  
  
They didn't break away until their breath ran out-and when they did, Quatre noticed that tears had gathered in Duo's eyes.   
  
Duo hadn't really changed in Quatre's absence...perhas his braid was a bit longer, and his slim frame a bit longer...but he was still the Duo that Quatre had known.  
  
"What happened to you, man?" Duo asked, holding Quatre at arms length. "We thought you were dead...you've changed so much."  
  
Quatre shifted his weight awkwardly. "A lots happened," he said quietly.  
  
((pain...darkness...the cold. Why couldn't they let him die? Why couldn't they let him go?))  
  
"I'd rather not talk about it." his voice was nothing more than a whisper now, and the room went silent aside from the tinny music coming from Duo's abandoned game.  
  
At last Duo nodded. "Sure, man," he said, his grin firmly back into place. "As long as your here to stay."  
  
Quatre nodded firmly. "And I am."  
  
"Then sweet! Wait till Hee-chan and Fei hear your back...their gonna be shocked!" Duo giggled with anticipation, and a smile once again grew on Quatre's face.  
  
"When will they be back?" Trowa asked in a soft voice.  
  
Duo gave an exadurated shrug. "Beats me! hours ago?"  
  
"In that case, I think I'm going to show Quatre to the room he'll be sharing with me," Trowa turned to lead the Winner out of the living room.  
  
"Not without me, your not! I ain't letting this one outta my site!" Duo exclaimed, wrapping an arm tightly around Quatre's shoulders as they began walking towards the room Trowa occupied.  
  
~*~  
  
Quatre stood before the mirror, lost in it's reflection. Behind him, Duo sat cross-legged on the bed, his eyes closed as he rambled brightly on about how worried the pilots had been and how they'd searched and searched for Quatre. Quatre heard his words, but wasn't really listening. In the mirror, he stared at himself...his sea green eyes seemed so old and tired...his hair, which swept his collar bone nearly was as blond as ever, yet it seemed a little dirty from all the grime and pain in the past year. But the biggest change in him wasn't so tanglible...how could someone define the loss of innocence?  
  
He turned from the mirror to face the room. Duo was still talking, his voice a background to the quiet that filled Quatre's mind...just like old times, though Quatre didn't bother responding to as much now.   
  
Trowa's room was deceptivly simple-just like the tell pilot. A single, large bed was pressed against the wall, a filled bookself against another. There was a mirror as well as a bureau that housed Trowa's old half-mask as well a sa few framed photos...Kathy; the pilots; Heavyarms...a small, well-handles photo of Trowa and Quatre together... In one corner was a display case that kept calling to the blond. Inside the case, was his old violin and bow, as well as a silver flute. Quatre wondered if Trowa stilled played...and if he would be any good at it were he to pick the bow up again. He was afraid that all his old lessons had been replaced in his mind with the crack of whips and the sting of tears.  
  
"Duo," Quatre said, interupting the loud pilot, who opened his eyes and blinked at his friend. "I think I'm going to take a shower before Heero and Wufei get home, if thats all right."  
  
Duo blinked again then grinned, unfolding himself to stand. "Sure thing, Q! I'll see ya later!" He ran over and gave the blond an unexpected hug before dashing out of the room.  
  
Quatre sighed and started towards the bathroom that connected to the room he and Trowa were to share. He turned the shower on and stepped in, letting the hot water run over his smooth body, easing the tightness from him shoulders and back...  
  
(("Hold still, little one," Gabriel commanded, as he put a restraining hand on Quatre's wet shoulder. Quatre clenched his teath and braced himself, but obeyed. As expected, the scratchy natural spounge that Gabriel liked started scrubbing at Quatre's raw back, making the cuts and bruise sting feircly. Pause for soap...then again. Lowering his head, Quatre forced his eyes open and stared down at the water flowing swiftly down the drain. It was red...red with dried blood and newly re-opened wounds...He clenched his eyes shut tightly and endured the pain of a simple shower.))  
  
  
note: TBC, of course. 


	3. 

Quatre lay on the ground shivering from a cold that seeped into his bones; froze his very mind. It was a cold that made his injusries-both new and old-ache and the scars that criss-crossed his pale body stand out as though they'd been painted on. The cold and pain though was little compaired to the never-ending lonliness and desperation that had invaded the blond's soul. He felt so lost, so uncared for...questions that the Arabian had tried so hard to shove away once again invaded his mind. Why was he with the people he was with? Why did they cause him so much pain? Why hadn't people found him yet?  
  
Stifling tears and whimpers, the Gundam pilot turned onto his side, curling himself into as small of a ball as possible. He had once again been shut in a stone room, bare skinned...the grimy dirt beneath him and the dark night skly visable above him-though a grate and several feet of harsh wall seperated him from that freedom*.   
  
The ground seemed unusually harsh beneath Quatre's bare body-each little bump in the dirt seemed to be mountains; each grain of sand was like a nail against his skin. Had he grown more sensitive? Unlikely...but he had grown used to a certain amount of luxery, mixed in with the sheer pain of being Gabriel's toy.  
  
That's what Quatre had become, the blond realized morosely. The plaything of a dark sadist, who hid his cruelty beneath a mask of elegance and caring eyes. Deceptive eyes.  
  
Quatre shivered more violently as the dark eyes materilised themselves in his mind. Even in moments of solitude, with things such as cold and pain to distract him, Quatre couldn't escape those eyes. They had long ago replaced the face of his one time lover, the emerald eyes that had once held him captive. Emerald eyes that the blond could no longer picture, no matter how hard he tried.   
  
Had the old Quatre died so soon? Was he really a different person, simply in denial of that fact? Had he truly been rebuilt so soon by Gabriel, or was he floating, oblivious, in a sea of non-existance? Was he clay that his master could mold and shape to his will? He had said the words, he had given in...He had shed tears of pain, shed tears for his own lost self...lost self. yes, Quatre was lost forever now-wasn't he?  
  
"No...no..." the Arabian whispered into this chest, tears building in his eyes, shaking his head against the thoughts. "I'm still myself...I'm still myself...I have to be. I'm still myself..."  
  
'Yes Master'....he'd said the words, though. He'd given up, surrendered himself in every form of the word. He didn't fight. He didn't argue. 'Yes Master'....yes Master....he could hear himself saying the words as dutifully as Gabriel's little goons did. Yes Master...his head was down when he spoke those words, like a puppy scolded for chewing a slipper. yes Master...like the dark eyes, Quatre could not escape those words. Like Gabriel's dark eyes, Quatre could not stand those words. 'Yes Master...'  
  
~*~  
  
"Quatre," A thin hand shook the blond's shoulder and Quatre shyed away instincitvly, his aqua-colored eyes opening with a shock. He wanted to shy from the bright light that blinded him, but it was there and he could not look away.   
  
Concerned eyes replaced the light as warmth hit Quatre's body like a tidal wave. Green eyes. Trowa's eyes.  
  
"Quatre, Heero and Wufei are back," Trowa said in a low voice, helping his lover sit up in the soft bed that Quatre had fellen asleep in. "Are you ready to face them?" Quatre nodded, his mind clearing rapidly in the lit room. "The come on,"   
  
"Yes master," Quatre mumbled unconsciously as he swung out of bed and began following the stoic clown out of the lavish bedroom.   
  
  
  
  
*this is the room that he was in for the first chapter of Yes Master, My Master.  
  
  
Note: ^^ Short, gomen ne. FYI, I'm not putting the next part out until I've gotten at least 7 new reviews, so no buggy me until that happens, ne?  
  
note to Katya: ~sticks out tongue~ Can't flood my e-mail with spam!!!! Nyuuuuuuuuu! 


	4. 

Heero and Wufei were in the living room when Quatre and Trowa found them...both were glowering menacingly at Duo, who sat on the coffee table, a broad grin on his face and a mischivious air around them. No words were said, but it was overwhelmingly clear to Quatre that they were arguing over SOMETHING.  
  
At the sound of footsteps, Heero turned to face Trowa. "Trowa, do you know what this baka is hiding?" he hissed in a low voice that hadn't really changed since when Quatre last saw him. "Duo says that someone is here-don't tell me Relena found us?" His voice held a hint of anxiety and fear at the woman's name. Quatre blinked-things, it seemed, hadn't changed that much...except, of course, for him. Relena still bugged the pilots? Poor Heero...  
  
"No, Relena isn't hear," Trowa assured his dark haired friend, stepping aside slightly, so that Quatre was most definatly in Heero's view.  
  
Colbalt eyes strayed towards the blond and Heero blinked once in surprise, but returned his attention back to Trowa. "Thats a relief," he muttered, ignoring Quatre completely. "Who is here then?"  
  
"uh..." Trowa glanced over his shoulder at Quatre, who shrugged briefly. Heero had obviously seen the young Winner, but was deneying the fact for one reason or another. Behind Wing's ontime pilot, Duo was laughing so hard that he'd fallen off the low coffee table, and Wufei stood stock still, his eyes wide and focused on Quatre-obviously in some state of shock.  
  
"It's Quatre, you dope!" Duo shouted between spurts of laughter. "He's right in front of you!"   
  
Heero's eyes once again strayed to the blond pilot, who felt himself blushing as they scrutinized him, siezed him up. "Uh...hello..." he said meekly.  
  
Eyes widened under the mop of moss green hair, and Heero's jaw seemed to come a little unhinged. "Quatre!" he exclaimed, excitment in his voice that Quatre had never heard before. Perhaps things had changed more than the Arabian had previously thought... "I thought you were a hallucination..."  
  
Behind Heero, Duo was curled into a ball so tightly that Quatre thought he might sufficate-the braided boy was now silent, but his body convulsed with mirth.  
  
Ignoring Shinigami, Heero reached out and brushed a hand against Quatre's dark shirt. His fingertips barely touched the material before he snatched his hand back. Quatre coughed, his blush deepening with embarrasment, his pale eyes lowering to focus on the ground...The giant hug that Heero swept him up into was completely unexpected, making Quatre gasp as iron-lie arms squeezed his ribs.   
  
When Heero released the smaller boy, Wufei was standing beside them, dark eyes shining with a partial smile over his lip, and Duo was watching from deeper in the living room with a goofy grin. Trowa had slid back into the shadows, to watch as the other pilots rained quaestions upon his little one.  
  
Quatre was smiling, he realised as he watched his friend's incredious expressions. Questions fell around him, but he ignored them all...he wasn't ready to answer them yet. Only one question snagged his mind, and it was one that came from deep inside himself...was he turly home?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Note: craaaap....but I promised to get out more, thus I'm putting out more. seven reviews, once again. 


	5. 

note: in this part, I'm employing ((...)) for the flashback...: ^^  
  
  
The questions had at last stopped. They didn't stop all at once, rather they tapered slowly off leaving silence in their wake once it became obvious to the other pilot's the Quatre wasn't ready to talk. Part of Quatre was relieved at the void the inquiry had left...but another part of him was squirmy uncomfortably. No one knew just what to say-the pilot's couldn't ask Quatre about what had happened to the blond over hte last year, even though those thoughts dominated their minds. Trowa, Duo and perhaps Wufei understood that Quatre needed time to readjust, to get over what was obviously a traumatic experience...and between the three of them, they'd managed to subdue Heero's queries. However, that left the conversation up to Quatre-Quatre who had spent much of the last year in obediant silence, speaking only when his Master made it clear that he was allowed.  
  
(("I hate you!" Quatre screamed, tears running down his cheeks, leaving wet trails in their wake. "Why do you have to kill them!? Why do you have to make ME kill them?!!" Another boy had died at his hands, another soul had departed the earth before it's oportunity for true life had been presented. Another splash of blood on Quatre's hands and consious. "Why?" he sobbed, letting everything out at long last. The pain; the fear; the screams...everything had been building up in him, begging to be released, to escape...to explode in dear Gabriel's face.  
  
Quatre was on his knees, the blood staining his dark clothing slowly seeping into the soft, fine carpet beneath him. He didn't remember coming into the bedroom, leaving the dark dungeon and it's dead occupant...he didn't remember falling to his knees, arms wrapped tightly about himself. Everything was such a blur...the sleepless nights; the nightmares; the guilt and humiliation did that to the Arabian. He was quickly losing everything, and the more he grabbed for it, the quicker it slipped away. He was becoming what the other's wanted...what Gabriel knew he'd become.  
  
Soft footsteps across the carpet alerted the Arabian of his master's approach, but the young man couldn't lift his head or stop the tears that now flowed heavily yet silently.  
  
Strong hands grasped Quatre by the shoulders, tight enough to give the pilot a shock of pain that jolted him slightly from the dark world of his tears and into a hazy reality. The hands were lifting, and Quatre was forced to stand on thready feet. One hand deserted his shoulder, leaving a warm imprint to slwoly fade away as it grabbed his chin. Pale face was forced up; sea green eyes were forced to meet narrowed dark ones. A gentle finger, soft with very fine callouses caressed the tears away, urging them to stop coming all together.  
  
Gabriel gave his captive the hint of a smile as the tears stilled and Quatre's breathing steadied. "From now on, little one," Gabriel's voice was soft, but had the edge of disapointed command to it...and edge that Quatre had early learned to recognize as a bad thing. "You will not speak unless I make it perfectly clear that you may. And you will not cry in my presence." Smile fell and hands dropped from Quatre's fragile body, leaving the boy to ponder the new twist to his tortured existance.))  
  
Sitting at the kitchen table, old friends seated around him, focused on him, Quatre needed to remind himself that here, he could speak. He didn't need permission...he could say what he wanted, when he wanted. He opened his mouth, and forced words out.  
  
The words were meaningless-a question that he already knew the answer to combined with a confirmation of what the other's had already guessed or knew. "I've been a little out of things," the blond heard his soft voice say, slicing smoothly through the awkwards silence. "...how did the war end?"  
  
The pilots shifted, glancing breifly at one another, as though tossing the doubious privilage of storytelling amungst themselves. Only Trowa was absent from the silent conversation, leaning back in his wooden chair, vibrant eyes focused on his blond lover. Torwa had told the story to Quatre shortly after they were reunited...but as often was the case, the circus clown was not about to say anything. Quatre was greatful the Trowa was not Duo-Duo would have announced loudly "Why are you asking? Weren't you paying attention when I told you it?!" Trowa understood Quatre-understood that the blond needed conversation, how idle or repeditive.  
  
Quatre gave the brown haired pilot a small smile, forcing his eyes back to his other friends. He wasn't surprised in the least that Duo opted to speak.   
  
Duo spoke fast, his voice jumping from a sorrowfilled tone to an excited one as he recounted the story that Quatre had already heard and recited numerous times over in his mind. Though Duo's version was rather more humerous than Trowa's-Duo occasionally would make the Gundam's speak or act out a scene...every so often the narration would be interupted by an indignant squack from another pilot-Quatre wasn't really paying attention. He was letting the sounds wash over him, fill the quiet void that Gabriel insisted remain while Quatre was his captive. Such animated; jovial and amusing antics were a treat for the blond and he wasn't about to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. Never again would teh Arabian take speach or laughter for granted.  
  
Shining eyes closed and a smile spread over Quatre's lips. Gabriel was dead, but in Quatre's soul he still reigned...terror and pain and love mixed into a presence that comforted but more often eat away at Quatre...Duo's voice, loud and clear...Trowa's quiet chuckle or Heero's muttered "Omae o korosu" were all weapons pushing the spirit of the dead master further and further into the recesses of who Quatre was. Who Quatre really was-not who Gabriel wanted him to be. Perhaps he hadn't lost as much as he thought...  
  
  
  
Pyu? Wow...I'm getting lots of reviews since I started the seven review rule...weeeeell.....I think I'm gonna up it. ^^ one dozen (12) reviews before I put out the next part. Life is SO unfair, isn't it? ^^ Mew!! Thanks for reading!!! 


	6. 

Note: sorry I haven't posted in a while-no inspiration, really. However...I've grown excited about this story once again! so, though the pieces may be short still (I don't like throwing parts together that don't have the same mood, ya know?), there will be parts. ^^   
  
  
  
He stood before the steps, staring out at the world, a bleak expression on his pale face. Before him the driveway streached out a short eternity before it was swallowed up by the trees that gave the house it's privacy...let it keep it's secrets. The world outside of the happy little nook the former Gundam pilots had created for themselves seemed so very far away...another planet, another life entirely. He stood, unsure of the outside world. Unsure if there WAS an "outside world".  
  
"You." The voice was cold, hard with an underlying tension that made the fine hair on the back of Quatre's neck stand on end. Slowly, the young Arabian turned, his body tensed up, ready to run or fight...he half expected to see one of his victims, or his old master, standing there...risen from the dead to torment what was left of his life.  
  
Sea-green eyes found the voice's owner, and the young man relaxed-somewhat. He didn't recognize the face he found to be someone he had killed...nor was it his lord Gabriel. Light brown hair framed a thin face, sunken brown eyes stared at him beneath well defined eyebrows and thick lashes. The boy was naked, yet undefined below his neck...his neck, which was hidden by a large, ugly metal collar held on with a silver padlock.  
  
"You're the one..." The boy moved his mouth, and the voice spoke the words-yet they seemed unconnected to one another. Brown eyes gazed at Quatre unwavering...unnerving, like a living zombie, a brainwashed drone.  
  
"I'm what?" Quatre asked, forcably diverting his eyes from the boy, his voice quaking slightly with confusion and fear.  
  
"You're the one thats killing me." The whisper was directly in Quatre's ear, cold breath tickling the thin hair on his neck and he whirled again, his pulse and breathing racing. The boy, his eyes as dead as before, smiled broadly at the Winner, his face mear inches from Quatre.   
  
"Your the one that knows..." The voice came once again from behind the Arabian, and once again, the blond spun, nearly falling this time. Catching himself, Quatre gasped in horror. What had been the house...was now nothing. In it's place was a sea, a vast army of...eyes. Faces. People. "But does nothing." Mouths moved...all the mouths moved...yet the one voice reached Quatre's ears.  
  
Pale eyes widening, Quatre turned away. The eyes of the others...they haunted him. Held him. Stared at him with tears and pain...from empty faces and dead sockets. He stared away, wanting to find the driveway leading into the woods once again...but finding only that he was surrounded. Eyes everywhere...hard, cold, unfeeling and pain-filled...they surrounded him.   
  
"You could save us, Quatre!" mouths moved as the voice got louder. The eyes were glowing with an unreal light...the bodies seemed closer to Quatre. He shuddered, bringing his hand up to cover his ears, cover his aching heart. His mouth opened, words of defense on his tongue...but they died away in the crowd.  
  
"You could save us, but you don't care..." The voice yelled, unbearably loud, shaking the very foundations of the world.   
  
With a cry of his own, Quatre fell to his knees, eyes squeezed tight in pain, tears streaming down his face, hands clawing at his own flesh. The world was shaking, ringing with the force of the shout...The figures that surrounded the young man shattered, turning to dust before they could hit the ground. The shaking stopped and silence grew in the dark void.   
  
Cautiously, Quatre moved his hands from his ears, feeling sick as he saw the slick red liquid that covered them and rolled gently down the sides of his face.  
  
"You don't care." the whisper was lost in a wind that Quatre never felt, as he carefully, painfully, pulled himself to his feet.  
  
Once again, the one-time pilot opened his mouth, words of apology, words of fear and defense once again dying stillborn on his leps.  
  
"Everyone becomes what I want them to."   
  
Turning slowly, his eyes wide, Quatre's met Gabriel's black stare. Horror growing in his mind, his heart swelling until it felt ready to burst. The pain was growing, unescapable...the blond's body twisted and his mouth opened in a silent scream...  
  
A smile flit across Gabriel's lips.  
  
"You will become what I want you to."  
  
~*~  
  
Quatre opened his pale eyes with a snap, staring at the cieling, feeling panic in his heart. Sweat soaked his body, making the thin white sheets of the bed he and Trowa shared cling to his flesh uncomfortably. His breathing came fast and hard as the last image of Gabriel's smiling face fled his mind. The dream was gone, forgotten...yet the damage had been done.  
  
With tremendous effort, Quatre forced himself to sit up, bringing one strong hand up to run through his wet and unrully pale hair.   
  
What had the dream been about? A frown began to form on the Winner's pouty little lips as he faught to remember just one moment of the nightmare. No images, no words...just the feeling. The feeling of utter torror; helplessness and guilt. Was it, then, a memory? Quatre shook his head to his own question. It felt different...in some ways it felt worse.  
  
A slight shift in the blankets and the quiet sound of cloth against cloth pulled Quatre out of the trap in his mind. Beside the blond, Trowa propped himself up on one elbow, his brow furowed and a small frown on his face as he peered at his lover in the dim, early morning light. Quatre looked down at the brown-haired boy, his eyes softening as he let the dream slip, if just for that moment, from his mind, like sand through an hourglass.  
  
"Quatre?" Trowa's soft voice sounded a little scratchy as he sat up more completely, worry etched in his features. "Is everything okay?"  
  
Quatre let out a little sigh. "As well as usual," he replied softly, not wanting to alarm his lover nor lie. He forced a smile, small and soft, as he lay back down again.  
  
"Another nightmare then," Trowa breathed, his eyes slipping shut once again even as he wrapped his smaller love in his arms. Sleep is a powerful mistress, and though Heavyarms' pilot wished desperatly to remain awake for his little one, his breathing was soon even and regular, his grip on Quatre's thin body was light and loose.  
  
Quatre stared up at the cieling with a soft sigh, not even attempting to banish the few crystaline tears from his eyes. His hand saught Trowa's sleeping one as he snuggled closer to his lover's warm body.  
  
Sea-green eyes closed once again, mind saught out the nightmare...  
  
Quatre didn't get back asleep that night.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
note: another short piece. Sorry. it's something though, ne? And it's the start of something important...^.~ hope you like it, please review...I'll put out the next piece after um....well, I'll go with 12 reviews again. (it's unfair yes...but hey, it gives me an excuse for procrastinating). 


	7. 7

Note:Much thanks to LibbyKate for the beta read...and on with the show!!  
  
  
  
  
Try as he might, Quatre was failing miserably at keeping a frown from plaguing his pouting lips as he stared absently down at the plate of assorted breakfast foods that Wufei had been kind enough to cook. He hadn't been sleeping well the past few days...the nightmares were growing continuously worse, effecting everything about the young man. He'd gotten to the point where he'd feign sleep for hours, lying in Trowa's gentle embrace, fearing the images that would surely find him if he let his fatigue reign. Images of crying children, their small bodies bloody and scarred...their pleas for help tugging at the Winner boy's ears, even as he stood a lifetime away.  
  
"Hey Quatre," Duo's chipper voice broke through the Arabian's icy thoughts. "You alive?"  
  
Blinking his clear eyes at his friend, Quatre forced a smile and picked up his chop-sticks. "Of course," he said, picking at the fermented tofu on his plate, hoping that the strong flavor would wake him up. "I was just thinking..."  
  
Duo watched his friend a moment, then grinned broadly and finished off the piece of fig-filled dough he'd been munching on. "Okay..." he let out a belch and once again dipped his chopsticks into the pile of food that was his breakfast. "Whatcha wanna do today, man?"   
  
Quatre gave a silent sigh at the abrupt change in questioning, and shrugged his thin shoulders. What he WANTED to do...? He WANTED to spend a day with Trowa...listening to the tall boy play flute or watch him read...that would content the blond for hours. However, Trowa and Heero had been duped into attending one of Relena-san's "events" and wouldn't be returning home until late that night. Wufei had gone to work, leaving Quatre alone with Duo. It wasn't really so bad, Quatre supposed, lifting his eyes to peer at his friend through full lashes...Duo was just a little to hyper to fit his current mood.   
  
  
"You have no ideas?" Duo asked, incredulously through a mouthful of food. "Come on, Quat-I'm sure you can think of something!"  
  
Quatre swallowed, shrugging his shoulders again. "I really don't know...we could just stay here..."  
  
"Naw!" Duo interrupted his friend loudly. "What's the fun of that?" Jabbing his chopsticks at the other boy, the American shook his head. "It's boooor-iiing..." The grin on his elven face widened. "Lets go to a park!"  
  
Turning the idea around in his mind, Quatre felt another frown forming...he didn't really want to do anything...his aquamarine eyes found Duo, staring at him with a gleeful, expectant smile, like a little kid. Quatre sighed. "Sure Duo, we'll go to a park..."  
  
Duo let out a whoop of delight and attacked his food with new vigor. Grimacing slightly, Quatre continued to pick at his meal, even though he lacked any appetite whatsoever.  
  
~*~  
  
He sat on a swing, ignoring light wind that ruffled his hair. The swing was rocking gently, but he ignored that as well. His gentle eyes were fixated on Duo, who sat cross-legged on the edge of a children's merry-go-round, licking happily at a chocolate-dipped ice cream cone as he spun...Quatre stared at him, but didn't see. He didn't feel the cold sticky mess that was his own ice cream, dripping down his hand, nor was he aware of the worried looks his friend threw him every couple of minutes. That's how tightly Quatre was caught in the webs of a waking dream...thoughts...contemplation...it all melded into one horrible, unresolved nightmare.  
  
Quatre was tired...very very tired...and not just physically at that. He'd kept a mask up as best he could for the sake of his friends, he'd hidden away his tears, tried to ignore his fears...and had, for the most part, succeeded. But such success is not without price...Quatre felt eternally drained and was finding that he no longer had the energy to push away the images and dreams...the memories that wanted to live once again in his mind.  
  
Clear eyes slid closed, tears forming lightly beneath them, and Quatre didn't bother trying to stop them. He didn't care if Duo saw anymore...his heart burned and body felt twisted as it rocked in the gentle breeze. Words were floating through his mind...seemingly random words, all connected to one another by thin lines of thread, like a spider's silk web. Pictures formed, blurred and surreal...Quatre saw in shades of blue the tower-like room he'd been confined in...he saw Gabriel's bedroom as though he was looking through water...he saw children dying at his hand, felt the ghost of his old master wielding the whip...he saw Trowa on his knees, his back bloody and torn, his shirt lying in a shredded, discarded heap not far away.  
  
A tear of shock and pain ran down Quatre's pale face, and his eyes snapped open.  
  
"Gah!" Quatre gasped, leaning backward to escape the large, violet eyes that scrutinized him from only centimeters from his face. Flailing, the blond found himself falling off the swing onto his butt, the impact hard enough to jar even his bones. "Itaiiii..." he murmured, closing his eyes and concentrating on the sensation of pain...pain was better than his thoughts-even the light pain that did little to distract him.  
  
"Hey man, sorry about that," Duo said, coming around the swing and offering his slender hand to the Arabian. "Didn't mean to startle you like that..."  
  
Prying open one of his eyes, Quatre peered up at the braided boy, taking in the concerned expression on his face. He lifted a hand, grimacing at the sticky mess that was once ice cream that covered it. "Ugn." he said softly, grasping Duo's wrist with his clean hand and letting the American pull him smoothly to his feet. "It's okay...I was just thinking."  
  
"Are you okay?" Duo asked, as Quatre brushed little woodchips off his pastel clothing.   
  
Quatre nodded. "Yeah-I didn't fall that hard...it won't even leave a bruise..."  
  
"no," Duo said, his voice grave and serious, moving closer to give the blond a penetrating look. "I mean...are you okay?"  
  
Slightly surprised, Quatre looked up at his friend. "Y-Yeah..." he whispered, even as the thousands of thoughts and memories flooded his mind once again. "I'm fine." he was lying and he knew it...Duo knew it also. Deathscythe's one-time pilot watched his friend with narrowed eyes, taking in the glassy look that Quatre's own clear orbs were taking...  
  
Quatre bit his lip, trying to hold in the tears that threatened to spill down his face, lowering his eyes so that he wouldn't have to see Duo. His tasted blood, but it comforted him more than anything...comforted him and made him think. The tears...they were escaping. He closed his eyes completely, took a deep breath of the park air...  
  
Strong, warm eyes wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him close to Duo's thin body. Unconsciously, Quatre clutched at Duo's black shirt even as the tears he'd fought so hard to banish began rolling down his face, and his skinny body was racked with silent sobs. 


End file.
